


Missed connections, bad timing, blundering in the dark

by XiaRobotto



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Character, Jarchie - Freeform, M/M, based on the tv show, mention of csa, mention of violence, miss grundy is evil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-22 16:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9615182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XiaRobotto/pseuds/XiaRobotto
Summary: The small, prosperous town of Riverdale is shook as the body of Jason Blossom, son of a notable family, is mysteriously found in the nearby river. As the authorities go out of their way to figure out what exactly happened, Archie and Jughead, two ordinary teens, desperately try to conceal the dark secret they share, while attempting to fix their broken bond.





	1. when the future is without hope, the present takes on a bitter taste

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to write this after seeing a post from @captainofthecity on tumblr. Thumbs up for the amazing idea !  
> The title is a quote from Paul Auster's "Moon Palace", and the title of the chapter from Emile Zola's "Thérèse Raquin".
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy following this dark twist on Riverdale's universe... I know for sure I'm enjoying writing it!
> 
> (Updates will be irregular)

It was around midnight, and a good part of the little town of Riverdale was already sleeping soundly. That is, the part that could actually sleep. 

 

As for Jughead, he sat at his usual spot at Pop's, his laptop open in front of him. His hands rested idly on the keyboard, his eyes unfocused and his vision blurry. He remained perfectly still, but his mind was all over the place. His thoughts roamed wild, and it was probably the reason why his signature eye bags were as pronounced as ever. He had tried sleeping at home, in the comfort of his room; he had tried sleeping at school, lulled by the quiet chatter of the classroom; but he had to resign himself to not sleeping at all. The only thing that could soothe him in this state was the sound of rain against the windows, and the dim lights of the dinner. The owner knew better than just to kick him out: he realised Jughead was going through a tough phase, although he was not even close from knowing why. 

 

Only two persons knew why. Nobody else could, and with a little luck, nobody else ever would. 

 

Jughead pulled out of his lethargic daze, his eyes finally getting back into focus, reflecting the open but blank Word document. He was supposed to write a short story for an optional literature class he took without really thinking. He couldn't get himself to write anything, though. It wasn't because the inspiration wasn't there; no, he had plenty of things to write about. But it was because just thinking about them was dangerous enough - so divulging them in a class assignment wasn't the best idea. He had to forget all this, forget what happened, in order to be safe. And to keep Archie safe... Even though the redhead wouldn't talk to him anymore. Jughead rubbed his face with his hands. He was awfully tired, and didn't have time nor envy to deal with relationship problems at the moment. 

 

The boy looked out of the window, noticing that the rain had somewhat subsided. If he wanted to go home wet and not soaked, he had to do it now; nobody knew when and how the weather could change in this hell of a town. Taking his time, Jughead closed his laptop and slipped it into his bag, stood up and left a few dollar bills on the table. Everybody wondered where he found the money to buy all those burgers, since he was too lazy to take a part-time job; it would certainly be long before anyone would see him wear a little hat and an apron, running around booths at Pop's to register orders. The mental image brought a small smile to his lips. As he walked out, he imagined what Archie's reaction would be if he ever witnessed that scene. His stupidly strong jaw would probably drop, his handsome eyes would glint with something indecipherable, and then he would smile charmingly and order two burgers, one for him and one for his hard-working best friend. Then Jughead would correct him, "I thought it was 'boyfriend'," and Archie would laugh with delight, and take his hand, and-

 

Jughead's smile disappeared. He had to stop in the middle of the road, as his heart tightened and his stomach twisted. He clutched the strap of his pin-covered shoulder bag, frustrated with himself. Every thought brought him back to Archie, and he hated it, hated that nagging feeling at the back of his mind, constantly reminding him of all the things he did wrong, all the things he messed up, and how everything led him to the situation he was in now. 

"You're responsible for the choices you made". 

"You can't go back".

"It's all your fault, nobody else's". 

"Nothing can fix this. It's too late."

 

The little voice wouldn't leave him alone. Sometimes it made him want to scream, to punch something or someone, to throw whatever he found across the room. Sometimes he just grew weary with it, and it made him want to curl up into a ball and cry in silence. Either way, he wished it could stop for good, because it felt like it was destroying his life little by little. He knew perfectly well that his life would not ever be the same again, that he couldn't change the past; but if at least he could refrain his mind from always coming back to the events of that night, he would be content. For now, it was inescapable, Jughead was beginning to learn it the hard way. He wondered if Archie was as troubled by remorse as he was… which was probably the case. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be avoiding him constantly at school, acting like he didn’t even know him, even though they literally had been friends for ten years beforehand. With a sorrowful sigh, Jughead started walking slowly again, the bitterness painfully consuming his heart bit by bit. By the time he reached the front yard of his house, his Converse shoes were stained with the puddles’ dirty water, and his jean jacket drenched by the incessant rain. Jughead swiftly jumped over the low fence, something he had done about a thousand times in his life; in fact, he did it every time he came back from somewhere, be it school or the dinner, and the routine had settled in. Habit is a great deadener, Jughead had once read in a play. It was exactly the sentence that came to his mind when he thought of the town he lived in. Even after a body was found under a month ago, it seemed like everyone was back to their own personal repetitive little life. Which wasn’t exactly a bad thing, for him and Archie…

 

Jughead shook the thought out of his head, while slipping his key into the lock, and turning the doorknob to access the entryway. He was not worried about being loud and waking anyone: as usual, all the lights in the house were off, but it wasn’t because all the occupants were asleep… It was because there was no occupant at the time, like most of the time. None but the big white dog who immediately came running as soon as he heard Jughead close the door behind him. The teen was tackled instantly to the ground, and laughed at his pet’s disproportionate display of affection. Jughead cuddled gladly with one of the only beings capable to comfort him, while trying with difficulty to take off his shoes. He finally succeeded, and attempted to stand up, but his dog was still running around him excitedly, wagging his tail and jumping on him. Jughead patted his head, waiting for him to calm down before he could come to his feet, at last. 

 

“Good to see you too, Hot Dog,” Jughead said while gently petting the dog between his ears. He made his way into the kitchen to fix himself a glass of water, and noticed the blinking red light on the landline phone. Well, he didn’t actually notice it; he  _ knew  _ it would be blinking, because it almost always was when he came home. Instinctively, he pressed the red button and went to fill his glass at the sink, while half-listening to the message he already knew by heart by now.

‘Hi, son. Just calling quickly before I have to catch the plane to Singapore. I tried calling your mobile but it goes straight to voicemail… anyway. I hope you’re well. I left you some money on your account, tell me if it’s enough. Can’t wait to be free so I can come back home. Ok, I have to go now, I’ll talk to you later. Love, Dad.’

 

The phone beeped, and Jughead sighed quietly, leaving the now empty glass in the sink to take care of it later. He was far from surprised; two-second phone calls from his dad were a classic for him. Like every night, the teen put some new dog food in Hot Dog’s dish, to the pet’s delight. Jughead reached inside the pocket of his jacket to find his phone, and turned it on for the first time in a few hours, then walked up the stairs to his room. He threw his bag at the foot of his desk and let his phone fall on his bed, before he stepped into the adjacent bathroom. He swiftly removed his shirt, pants and underwear, reluctantly took off his crown-hat-beanie thing, and entered the shower. He closed his eyes under the hot running water, allowing himself to relax and forget everything that bothered him, all these intoxicating thoughts that choked him all day, every day. Finally, his mind shut off, and a weight left Jughead’s shoulders. It would come back as soon as he left these protective four walls, blurry with condensation, but for now, everything was fine. He was fine, he had nothing to worry about. Not the police, not the bullies, not Archie Andrews’ handsome smile, not his shitty life, nothing.

 

After a while, he turned the water off and stepped out, shivering at the contact of cold air on his bare skin. He dried himself with a towel, and examined his face in the mirror while pulling his pyjamas – an oversized T-shirt - on. His eyebags were alarming, and the colour of his bloodshot eyes was becoming more and more intense as the sleepless nights multiplied, but he wasn’t looking for this. He brought a hand to his face, tracing a long scratch that lined his jaw. When he had gotten it, it had been very visible; but now, it had faded, and he was the only one who could actually notice it, because he knew it was here. He was anxious about it showing, because it was a mark of what happened that night, not so long ago. He shivered again, this time not because of the cold, but because of the dread inside of his heart. He quickly stepped away from the mirror and walked back into his room, trying to control his breathing. He wasn’t one to lose his temper, but sometimes it just became too much to handle. The teen let himself fall onto his bed, slipping under the sheets and picking up his phone. The notification led was blinking slowly: a missed call from his father and some other random things. ‘Hi, thanks for the money. See you later’, he typed and sent to the contact called ‘Dad’. He spent some time on Twitter and Tumblr, passively scrolling through the feed, before laying his phone down next to his head and drowning in the usual state of somnolence, between consciousness and unconsciousness, plagued by the same endless and repeated nightmares. It was the closest he could get to sleeping. It was better than nothing, actually: it allowed him to have the two or three hours of rest he needed to not go insane. He wondered if anyone at school had noticed his slow spiralling into the dark depths of insomnia and derangement. 

 

He wondered if anyone really cared.

  
  
  


***

  
  


Archie arrived at school on Monday morning with a weird feeling in his chest. It was a mixture of longing, of anxiety, of apprehension and overall, a bad intuition. It wasn’t really surprising; since this summer, he had been feeling like this pretty much every day. But now, it was October, and he was tired of not being able to forget, to move on. He always thought to himself, “Who could ever forget that? Who could live knowing they have done something like this? What sort of monster could be okay with it?” … And so, he came back to square one. He came back to not being able to shake this clinging feeling away, to lock the secrets away in a drawer deep inside his mind. That’s what Betty used to give him as an advice, when he had a secret to keep and was afraid to spill it out without thinking. He used to mentally visualise the problematic thought, put it in a corner, lock it away, and throw away the key. But while this technique worked with things like ‘I came home thirty minutes after curfew’ or ‘I forgot to revise for my test’, it wouldn’t work with something as huge as  _ this _ . And the thing with Archie was that when something was wrong, the only way for him to find comfort was by telling other people. In this case, there was only one person he could talk to about this, and this particular person probably wanted to forget what had happened as much as he did. Besides, that person also shot him a death glare every time they passed by each other in the corridors, just like right now, as Archie made his way to his locker. 

 

Archie didn't exactly blame him. He understood that after something like that happened, Jughead would want to erase all things related to it from his life. Hell,  _ he _ would give anything just for his memories of that night to disappear; maybe if that happened, it would allow him to finally sleep without having the scene repeating itself again and again and again in his head, like a broken record. It would allow him to have some peace, at last, instead of spending hours with his head in his hands, his face buried in his pillow to stop himself from screaming in terror, anger, and frustration. He would stop enduring his dad's inquiring gaze, every morning after every night spent tossing and turning. He would avoid the question that by now had become usual: "You okay, son?", and he wouldn't have to paint a fake smile on his face, while inside he just thought that no, he wasn't okay, he hated himself and he hated what he did. But unfortunately, magic didn't exist, and no fairy godmother or genie was going to appear to wipe out everything he remembered. A happy ending was impossible, period. Archie had to stop being so delusional, because nothing would ever be the same again, not in this town, not in his mind, and not between him and Jughead. 

 

The situation frustrated Archie. He saw that Jughead was even sadder than usual since summer, and it hurt him to see him so upset; but he knew talking to the other teen, or trying to establish any sort of contact, would bring back memories that they would both rather not be reminded of. Archie was torn between his will to keep the two of them safe, and his desire to fix the situation between him and Jughead. He missed Jughead, missed them lying in bed in silence, missed strumming a few chords on his guitar for him; he missed the intense green eyes piercing his soul, missed their hands intertwined together, missed listening to the raven-haired teen speak about international politics and murder mysteries for hours. Now, they weren’t the ones speaking about murder mysteries anymore, and the subject would be a sensitive one for as long as they lived. So as much as he missed him, was Archie really ready to take the risk and talk to Jughead again? Wasn’t this another awful idea? Yes, there was Betty, who he had known for as long as Jughead, and she was the nicest person on earth – but it just wasn’t the same. There was Veronica, too, who had moved in Riverdale at the start of the school year, and had integrated the group of friends with ease. But he couldn't possibly tell them anything about what had happened, both the events of the night and the other secret he kept, for his music teacher's sake... He envied the normality of the girls' life; a relative normality, admittedly, because an abusive mother and a criminal father weren't exactly common, but compared to what he had witnessed, and done with his own hands... Archie felt a bead of perspiration on his forehead. Panic started to kick in, and he kept it out as best as he could. His breathing became heavier, as his mind wandered back to that night, the dark, the moon looming over the scene like a silent but ominous observer; what they did, and then the look in Jughead's eyes showing that he was broken, Archie was too, their relationship was over, and nothing could ever glue the pieces back togeth--

 

"Archie?"

 

The redhead jumped slightly, looking at the owner of the voice, none other than Betty with big concerned eyes. She observed him, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Archie gulped as quietly as he could, calmly putting some books in his locker to hide the quivering of his hands. 

 

"- Hey, Betty. How's it going?

\- I should be the one asking you that, you've been silent all weekend," she answered, her arms crossed in front of her chest. Her eyes bore right into him, and he was suddenly happy that it was Betty and not Veronica, because the black-haired Vixen would have read right through him. Archie furrowed his eyebrows, while closing his locker. He hadn't been particularly silent- not more than usual, actually. It wasn't like he talked to his friends 24/7. Betty saw that he genuinely didn't know what she was talking about, and she quickly explained. "Didn't you see my text on Saturday? We went rollerskating with Veronica and Kevin."

 

Saturday... What was he doing on Saturday? Why hadn't he seen her text?... Ah, yes, he remembered now. He had been idly scrolling through his Facebook feed and had had the very bad idea to go see what Jughead was up to. Of course, Jughead checked his account about twice a year, so there was nothing new aside from a sarcastic political comment, four months ago. Archie had been about to leave it at that, when he had remembered that Jughead had an Instagram photography account; he had scrolled through it, realising quickly that there were really only pictures of sunsets and his dog on there. And then his unconscious had led him to Tumblr, where he knew Jughead was pretty active. But of course, since his (ex)-friend despised following public behaviours, there was absolutely  _ no selfie _ of him - "we really are in the era of narcissism", he had told Archie once, when the redhead had shown him a picture of a girl he found cute. Maybe he was right. But then again, because of this, Archie had no mean of finding a bit of comfort in the familiarity of Jughead's face. On a frustrated impulse, he had turned his phone off and had spent the rest of the weekend watching movies or wandering aimlessly around the town on his bike. That was why he hadn't seen Betty's message; but even if he had, he probably wouldn't have been in the adequate mood to accept the invitation. This explanation wouldn't please Betty, though. He had to make up a lie... Another one. 

 

"I... Don't think I did," he answered while thinking about what he would say next. "I was really busy this weekend, Dad needed some help with carrying boxes and stuff." Archie instantly felt relieved as Betty unfolded her arms and seemed to relax a little, showing that his excuse was valid enough for her to accept it. She nodded, and her nice smile came back onto her lips. "Oh, okay. It's too bad you couldn't come, though, it was fun. Maybe next time?" 

 

Archie wanted to answer something to assure her that yes, they could definitely go again in the future, but he merely nodded as his attention was distracted by the arrival of a familiar figure in his peripheral vision. He turned his head just in time to see who it was, and his eyes locked with those of a blond woman, her glasses hiding the not-so-innocent glint in her pupil. Ms. Grundy held his gaze as she passed by him in the corridor, and he just stood frozen here, his eyes following hers like magnets. Well-hidden behind her prude appearance, her expression said, "I'm still here, and if you do something that doesn't please me, you know what will happen." She was gone as quick as she had arrived, but the moment felt like it had lasted an eternity. Archie couldn't move for a few short moments, too busy trying to suppress the feeling of distress forming in his stomach. He didn't notice the suspicious gaze that a certain gloomy teen directed towards him, his eyebrows furrowed; he didn't know either that this same teen had been watching the whole scene from afar. His mind racing with interrogations, Jughead shut his locker door and turned away, just as Archie finally came back to his senses. He looked over at Betty, afraid that she might have noticed anything wrong; but his best friend was oblivious to what had happened, chatting happily with Kevin who had just arrived. 

 

As they made their way to their first class, joined by Veronica shortly after, Archie remained silent. The secrets he kept were piling up, the lies he told were multiplying. If he carried on that way, he thought, he would soon himself not be able to discern these lies from truth. 

But spending his whole life pretending that nothing had happened in July, that he didn't have any feelings for his ex-best friend, that he was perfectly fine... Wasn't this the price to pay to be safe? 


	2. everyday brings the same suffering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Archie Andrews thought memories could be erased, it's not long until life teaches otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of the chapter is from Zola's "Thérèse Raquin".  
> Well... I might or might not have written several chapters in a day. So this work might or might not be updated, um... every day or so. :')  
> As always, hope you'll enjoy reading this chapter made with love! ;)

It was the middle of October, and just like every year, the Riverdale High hallway was crawling with students. Teenagers ran around, going from one booth to another, looking at the banners that read “Join swimming today!” or “Come play football!” in big letters. It was time for the students to choose what extracurricular activities they would take part in, in what club they would be involved for most likely the rest of the year. People stood in-between stands, chatting with their friends about the pros and cons of one club or another, hesitating between art or literature, science or theatre. Seniors behind the desks explained with enthusiasm what their association was about, while freshmen listened intently, already imagining themselves throwing the ball that would make their team win or saluting in front of a cheering audience. Tall boys bragged about having been proposed to join the football team, pretty girls told their friends they were sure to make it into the cheerleading team, nerdy kids already looked forward to the science fair… and Archie attended, from behind the crowded football club booth, what Jughead called the “stereotypical soup”. As a varsity member, the redhead _had_ to be there, but really, the whole thing made him uncomfortable. He used to like this time of year, when you got to make one of the most important choices of your school life; now, his path seemed pretty straightforward. His coach, his dad, and his friends wanted him - no, _expected_ him to play football, so he played football. As simple as that, really. You don't need to make choices when your life is ruled by someone else’s hopes. Archie had learned that long ago.

 

The redhead stood a bit behind, letting his teammates explain the basics of football to new people over and over again, what he had been doing for a good hour. He was tired of repeating the mantras the coach fed them; so he was taking a small break, his mind wandering about and his gaze traveling from one point to another. A few meters away, far from the agitation of the sports clubs, there was a cluster of science and art-related stands, where a few students were asking for information. These types of clubs generally attracted less people, since they did not have a reputation similar to the most recognised associations - typically, football and cheerleading. Nevertheless, if Archie had actually had the choice, he probably would have considered joining the music club. After all, he liked playing guitar, writing songs, singing, so music wasn’t that much of an odd choice. As he gazed absent-mindedly in the general direction of the booth, he suddenly became painfully aware that someone was looking directly at him, and his vision focused just to see Ms. Grundy’s eyes directly boring into his’. This took him by surprise and he shivered, quickly looking away to avoid the insisting gaze. That why was he would never join the music club. Because he was afraid of seeing that face, of feeling the persistence of those eyes piercing right through him. Everyone else could plainly see the facade of innocence; no one actually bothered to look deeper and see that nothing was innocent in that woman. Absolutely everything was calculated, carefully arranged… and Archie did not want to think about it anymore. He tried to find something else to worry about, and his eyes moved unconsciously towards another booth in the same area. There, nonchalantly leaning against the wall just next to the journalism stand, stood none other than Jughead, his hands shoved into the pockets of a military jacket that could look cool only on him. He was scanning the students coming and going, like the observer he had always been. Sometimes, when they were little, he would stare at something so intensely that he would start scowling, and that Archie would have to ask him if everything was alright. With time, the redhead had learned that it was completely normal for him to do this, that it was what he was – a watcher. Archie wasn't exactly surprised to see him hanging around the journalism booth either: Jughead was pretty involved in the club, especially when it came to writing rebellious opinion pieces in the school newspaper. A smile curled Archie's lips as he remembered the vehemence of those he had read (almost all of them). Jughead seemed calm, but when he wrote or spoke about politics, it was not exactly the same story… speaking of which, the teen had just noticed Archie was staring, and had raised an eyebrow, forcing the redhead to look away, shaking his head. It sometimes happened: he forgot him and Jughead weren't friends anymore… and then he remembered, and his heart broke again, a little more. Fortunately (or unfortunately), his coach told him a few minutes later to go back to the booth, and the activity offered him a distraction, to keep his mind off all his worries for the rest of the morning.

 

At lunch, Archie sat at a table outside with Betty, Veronica and Kevin, as usual. He wasn't really listening to everything they said - his mind was elsewhere - but he did catch some small fractions of the conversation. The girls talked actively and excitedly about the clubs, especially the cheerleading team, where they had both applied. Everyone close to her knew that Betty had wanted to be a cheerleader for a long time; but every year, she was refused, and every year it brought her confidence down some more. This time, Veronica had sworn to her that she _would_ get in, no matter what, and Archie could see this brought some joy to his blonde friend. He knew she had enough of being the good girl, who followed everything everyone told her to do; for her, cheerleading was another step towards “cool”. For Archie, it was a step towards self-destruction - just like football was to him. He was pulled out of his dark thoughts as the conversation turned towards him, and the girls addressed him directly.

 

“Ah, yes, Archie,” Veronica started, her big dark eyes scanning his expression. “As part of the admission process for the team, there’s a party at Cheryl’s tomorrow night. And since we _have_ to make a good impression, it would be nice to have the football star with us. You’re in?”

She wasn't leaving him the choice, really. But still, Archie didn’t like that idea at _all_ . The thought of going to a party, at the house of the teen who was found dead, organised by his own sister… it felt extremely wrong. And there was no doubt it would feel very, um… morbid as well. Aside from his own personal view of the situation, he doubted he would be welcome in the house. After all, he had replaced Jason, in a way, by filling in the vacant spot in the football team. Now, as Veronica had put it, he was the star - exactly what Jason was when he was alive. And then it hit Archie. He hadn’t thought of it before, but now he saw it. If Jason's death did good to someone, it was to _him_ without a doubt. If anyone ever noticed that, it would make his life a living hell… he had to keep away from the family as much as he could.

“I don't know…” He started slowly, knowing this would be far from enough to convince Veronica. “We have a lot of tests next week, and I need to work on them… and I don’t think I’m in the mood to go to a party right now. I’m kinda tired… sorry…”

Veronica rolled her eyes, and Archie knew she would not give up. She instantly started speaking again. “You have all weekend to work on your tests if you need to. And a party will cheer you up! Come on!”

“No, sorry,” Archie answered, trying to be firm and nice at the same time. Veronica looked right into his eyes, and very seriously said: “Yes.” And so they were back to middle school for a moment, except Veronica was more stubborn that he thought. After a long exchange of “No's” and “Yes”s, Archie had enough and just wanted all of this to stop. He sighed heavily, running an annoyed hand through his hair, and rolling his eyes.

 

“Fine,” he conceded, looking away while Veronica enjoyed her victory, high-fiving with Betty right away, while Kevin watched unimpressed. This was such a bad decision, Archie thought, already seeing the disaster coming. Really, it was without a doubt the worst idea the girls could ever have, bringing him to the place where _he_ used to live… they had no idea how cruel and sadistic it was to force him to confront to this place. Actually, they would probably never know. Archie shifted uncomfortably, avoiding the girls’ gaze so they wouldn't see the apprehension and anxiety in his eyes. He looked across the courtyard, only to see Jughead sitting at a table alone, with a burger - god knows where he found all these burgers - and a book. The other teen looked up from his copy of Moon Palace to meet his eyes, and for once, Archie wasn’t cowardly enough to immediately look away. Jughead didn't break the eye contact either, and Archie was almost tempted to smile, before he thought otherwise. He sometimes didn’t understand what type of game Jughead was playing with him, always looking at him whenever they were in the same area. It didn’t particularly _bother_ him, but, well, it could be quite unsettling sometimes. He wondered if it was because, like himself, Jughead missed their friendship and was hesitating between speaking to him again or not. Or maybe it was just because Jughead despised him now, and his gaze really was a death glare. Archie didn’t know what to think, honestly; and he didn’t know what to hope for either. Jughead was the first to turn his gaze away, back to his book, and Archie took it as a sign to go back to the girls' conversation, and leave Jughead alone – he probably thought he was being a creep, staring at him like that. Archie tried to push the negative thoughts out of his head, until Betty stood up and announced it was time to go back to class. The small group left the courtyard to go back into the building, and when Archie looked back over his shoulder, Jughead was already gone.

 

On Friday evening, Archie sat on his bed, lazily playing some stupid game on his phone while waiting. Veronica and Betty had insisted to come pick him up, and he hadn't dared to refuse, given the icy look Veronica had sent him when he had opened his mouth to politely decline the suggestion. Apparently, they were really keen to make sure he wouldn't stand them up because he was too lazy to go out. So they had decided they would drag him out themselves if they had to, and Archie had to comply. At around 7 pm, the doorbell rang and the redhead stood up with a sigh. It was just a few hours, he could tolerate that. If he remained discreet and silent, he would easily be able to blend in with the crowd, and no one would pay attention to him or even talk to him, if he was lucky ; so he had nothing to worry about, really. He tried convincing himself as he grabbed his jacket and opened the front door, ready to greet his two friends with a fake smile. Instead of two pretty girls, though, he found himself face to face with the town sheriff. Archie took a step back, surprised and most of all extremely distressed by the fact of having the authorities at his door. The man did not seem to mind Archie's state of shock, and he just smiled amicably.

“Hey, Archie, haven't seen you in a long time!”, the sheriff said while holding out his hand for a speechless Archie to shake. “Hope I'm not bothering you. I was passing through the area, and I remembered I had something to ask your dad about… regarding this poor kid Jason's death. Is he around?”

Archie took a few short instants to process what he was being asked, and then another few to answer without stuttering.

“- Um, no, he's still at work. He was supposed to finish at 7:30, though, maybe you can meet him there?

\- Oh, no, don't worry, I'll call him later. Wouldn't want to interrupt a man working so hard,” the sheriff explained with a laugh. “Thanks for the info, Archie, have a good evening!”

 

And with that, the man was gone, waving briefly and closing the door behind him. Archie stood paralysed for a few minutes, then he leaned against the wall, trying to control his heavy breathing. Why was the sheriff popping up at his door? Why did he want to speak to his father - about _Jason_ , out of all things? What was all this about? Archie tried to think reasonably, rationally, convincing himself that it was probably something related to the shop and that he had nothing to do with it; but still, in the back of his head a little red light was blinking, and inside of him a feeling of anxiety was growing. Oh, god, if they hadn’t gone out that night, if they hadn’t thought of going to see the shooting stars, if they had just stayed inside, none of this would have happened, and they wouldn't have to worry now about bodies or the police or--

 

The doorbell rang again, startling him, and he tried to calm down before answering it. When his breathing found a normal pace again, he produced a fake smile and opened the door. This time, it was indeed Veronica and Betty, all dressed up and excited to go to the Blossom household, waiting for him impatiently. He greeted them, acting like he was happy to go, when really, he wasn’t. But he had to please them and at least keep them company for this one party, since it was “important to make it into the team”. Archie found it unfair and a little dumb to select team members based on their contacts list, but well, it was what real life was about, after all. The trio left the house and made their way to Cheryl’s, chatting along the way about who would be there and who wouldn't, gossiping about the other girls trying out, and other things typical teenagers spoke about.

 

Once they got there, as Archie had anticipated, there were already a _lot_ of people at the party. It wouldn't be exaggerating to say that at least one third of the school population was there; Cheryl had not invited that many people, but since everyone invited at least one more person to go with them, it wasn’t very surprising that the place was crowded. Unfortunately, it did not mean Archie’s arrival went unnoticed: a good part of his teammates were settled near the entrance, and loudly greeted him. The commotion attracted the attention of the persons around them, and Betty and Veronica looked at each other with a smile, a secret way of saying “we already made it into the team”. Archie awkwardly tried to smile, but he was extremely uncomfortable, as he greeted his friends under the whole party’s gaze. Whispers were heard, talking about the “really hot footballer” and the “two pretty girls with him”. Archie was used to the whispers by now; the girls weren't. And if they enjoyed their notoriety today, he knew it wouldn't be long before they’d start hating it. When all eyes were on you, you had to be perfect: one misconduct and admirative mutters could turn into aggressive gossiping. That was why Archie had to act like everything was normal, like he was happy to be here and see his friends, at least until the attention turned to something else. And it did, after a while, and Archie was finally free from the stares. He could, at last, relax a little, and even leave the group at the entrance to go further into the house, where he could both mix with the crowd and have a little bit of piece. He settled on an armchair with a cup of water in the living room, which had been turned into sort of a dance floor. As he let himself sink into the soft pillows, he looked around the room, and suddenly he did not feel as comfortable.

Next to him, on a low shelf, was a row of picture frames, with photographs of the same family. There were at least five of them - one with the whole family, and some others with individuals, and then some more with siblings together… and from almost all the pictures, one particular redhead seemed to stare at Archie, his still eyes boring into his soul. Jason, even dead, had been immortalised by these pictures; and now, he looked at Archie smugly, a smirk on his perfectly proportioned face, as if saying: “Don’t worry, Andrews, you’ll pay, one way or another.” Archie’s heartbeat quickened, and he looked on the other side to find an escape from the pictures; but there, on the wall, a photograph of the same contemptuous face had been hung, and the same eyes seemed to follow him. I have no escape, Archie thought. I have to get out of here, out of this house. He quickly looked around, making sure nobody was paying attention to him, and then he stood up. As discreetly but as quickly as he could, he crossed the house, went out the front door, and once he was not in sight anymore, he ran home and sat in his dark bedroom, haunted by the face he desperately wished to forget.

 

At about 11:30 pm, Betty and Veronica decided, although they were having fun, to go home. Betty's curfew was at 12pm, and since her parents were so strict about it, they really had to get going. They planned to find Archie, who had ran off to god knows where, and walk him home – you never knew, what if there was some kind of selective serial-killer murdering only redheads on the loose. So they looked through all the rooms, asked around to try to find their fugitive friend, but no one knew where he was. Finally, the two girls found one of his teammates, who had probably not been drinking only orange juice, and he told them that Archie had left earlier, one hour earlier in fact, and that he looked 'as if he had seen the devil'. When they heard the news, Betty and Veronica looked at each other, eyebrows furrowed, both not knowing what to do or think. Defeated, they went outside in silence, and though they did not understand the situation, both of them felt the same thing, deep inside: their friend wasn't fine, and they didn’t know _why._

 


	3. greater strangers than before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it's what we hate that brings us together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what to say about this chapter, except I really enjoyed writing it, but um. anyway.
> 
> Title of the chapter is from Zola's "Thérèse Raquin". (Yes, part of the inspiration for this fic is taken from this novel, so I had to pay it a tribute... ;) )
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy reading! Don't forget to check my tumblr @adeleisuncool for more. And if you liked (or disliked), be sure to tell me that in the comments below! Nice comments and constructive criticism always make my day :D

               

“Please meet me today at 4pm in the music room. We’ll speak about your orientation. Ms. Grundy.”

Archie stood in his room, a T-shirt half pulled over his head, looking at his phone in disbelief. His eyes remained fixed on the short text, while his stomach tightened in apprehension and anxiety. Then, he quickly threw his phone on his bed, trying to repress the panic settling in. He fully pulled the T-shirt on, his mind racing and going in all sorts of directions. What was he supposed to do? Ignore the text, act like he didn't receive it, and just not go? That was too risky; what if his teacher realised he had intentionally not come, and then said everything?... Or maybe he could find a way to avoid going, like doing something stupid to go to detention instead? Wait, that wouldn't work. She would easily be able to get him out of here. No, he had to go, it wasn't an option. He dreaded to see her - he didn’t even want to know what she would try to do if he went, what she would tell him. He had already been summoned to the music room twice before, and he would give anything to never go back. But this time, it was worse: Ms. Grundy had had access to his personal phone number, and if she looked through the student files, she could easily find his address. She could also find his friends’ personal information - Archie gasped when he realised what she could do to Jughead, if she wanted. The redhead ran a trembling hand in his hair, leaning on his desk to keep his balance. If Jughead was involved, he had no choice. He _had_ to go where she asked him to, do what she wanted, even if it meant losing his sanity bit by bit. He would’ve sacrificed it in a second if it was for Jughead.

Archie finished getting ready for school, then he grabbed his bag and walked out, grabbing a single cereal bar as his breakfast. He wasn’t hungry lately; in fact, his stomach did a painful flip every time he was presented with food. That being said, his stomach actually did a painful flip for every little thing now: when he heard a suspicious sound in his house; when someone talked to him a little too suddenly; when he heard the name ‘Jason’ in a conversation; and at many more occasions. He was constantly on his guards, and the nervousness affected him physically. He felt his muscles were sore from him being so tense all the time, and his stomach was twisted, so he couldn't eat. Not many people noticed it, really; but his dad sometimes worried about him not asking for another serving - what he used to do during his whole childhood. Anyway, he quickly ate his ridiculously tiny cereal bar on the way to school, not bothering to pick Betty up - she had slept over at Veronica’s place the night before. The two were becoming closer and closer, it seemed to Archie, even though he had kind of lost track of what was happening in his friends’ lives, too focused on figuring out his own. ‘Egoistic bastard,’ he thought to himself, determined to actually pay attention to his friends now. It was the beginning of November, as Archie was reminded by the chilly morning wind, and after three months in a phase of self-loathing, hide and seek with Jughead, and troubled nights, he couldn't get himself to become _normal_ again. He really tried to push out the haunting memories, but it was no use. Just something as simple as seeing his face in the mirror reminded him of Jason; in these conditions, he couldn’t just _forget_.

Archie met Betty and Veronica at the gate, and greeted them simply, like he always did. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but they looked… concerned. Both of them. Archie didn't know what they could be concerned about, so he just shrugged it off, and they went into the hallway, an unusual silence between the three. They all tried to put little bits of conversation here and there, but they weren't into it. Archie wondered what this was all about. It wasn't like this yesterday, and not the day before either. It was like something had changed overnight - and Archie would soon know what. The small group entered the common room.

  


***

 

Jughead sat in an armchair in the common room, isolated from the rest of the room’s occupants - the “popular group”, aka all the footballers. He scrolled through his phone with a scowl on his face, which wasn't so unusual for him. But if you looked closely, you could see the scowl actually was a look of worry, and if you knew what article he was reading, you would probably understand that something was wrong. This article had had the effect of a bombshell on the town, in a night. It was from a local columnist without a lot of notoriety, who claimed he detained information directly given by the police. The headline had popped up in Jughead’s feed in the early morning, and he had immediately understood what it was about. “ **It’s not an accident”.** It was on every mind, everyone spoke about it: the fact that Jason’s death was actually a homicide had shook the little town. It had shook Jughead particularly, as the reading of the article brought back memories he didn't really like. So now, he checked regularly what was new on the affair, while trying to appear like everything was fine, and acting like he was just curious about the incident – while it actually affected him directly. For now, the only new elements were the few details the police wanted to reveal: the autopsy and the declarations of anonymous witnesses had led the authorities to think Jason's death was intentional. That was basically all that was established by now.

Focused on his phone screen, Jughead did not hear the person sneaking behind him, and it was too late when the device was taken from his hands. He jumped from his armchair just in time to see his number-one bully, Reggie Mantle, laughing loudly, an expression of victory on his face. The tall boy was accompanied by his loyal servants, minor football players who thought hanging out with Reggie would make them famous in school; the kind of pathetic people who needed recognition and validation to feel like they existed. The bad news, though, was that they might not be very intelligent, but they had muscles, and Jughead couldn't hope to get his phone back without getting hit in one way or another. The leader looked at the phone screen, and laughed again.

 

“Well, well, look at that. If it isn't our dear serial-killer friend – reading about his own murder, to add to that!” Reggie's friends laughed in unison, and Jughead clenched his fist, thinking about how much he hated their laugh. Reggie hadn't finished teasing him, and he started talking again. “But Juggie, you don't _have_ to read articles about this. You already know more than us about what happened that night, don't you?” The footballer took slow steps towards him, looking right into his eyes, trying to find a hint of guilt inside Jughead's pupils.

“I already know more than you about everything, Reggie,” The latter answered right back, hoping boldness and wit would dissimulate the growing panic inside of him, hoping Reggie wouldn't see the quiver of his hand, the shameful red rising to his cheeks. That was it, that was the end, he would find out, everyone in the school would know, and then he would be thrown to –  


“Hey, Reggie, that's enough, give him the phone back.” A much too familiar voice broke the tense silence, and Jughead's shoulders relaxed as the bully turned away, towards Archie. There was a pause, a moment of stillness, where the two teammates looked at each other, and then Reggie rolled his eyes. “I should have thought your boyfriend would come flying to save you,” he said with a smug, trying to hide his defeat. He threw the phone back at Jughead, and the latter caught it quickly. “You two have fun while you can; that is, until you end up in jail.” With that, he motioned his group to follow him, and they left the common room.

The room was silent for a moment, neither Jughead nor Archie really knowing what to do or say, and Veronica and Betty feeling they couldn't speak up in this awkward situation. The two boys stood in front of each other, the armchair separating them, balancing from one foot to another. The tension in the air was palpable; the two students felt it, and avoided each other’s eyes, nervously fiddling with a pin, or their jacket, or anything that could distract them from the present situation. After a while, Jughead was the first to break the silence, looking up from his dirty shoes and locking eyes with Archie. “Thank you,” he said simply but genuinely. He had to be honest here: without Archie's intervention, Reggie would have continued pushing until Jughead broke. Yes, he was grateful, but this was way too awkward, and he couldn't stay here, under Archie's insisting gaze. So he nodded, looked down, and left the room.

 

Archie appreciated the fact that Veronica and Betty didn't make any comment on what had just happened.

  


***

  


After class, though he would have preferred to go back home, Archie walked without hurrying to the music room, his heart beating fast in fear and apprehension. He honestly didn't know what Ms. Grundy wanted from him; what he knew, though, was that it wouldn't be anything good. He reached the door far too fast for his taste, and stayed there for a few minutes. He would have liked to run away, and back to the comfort of his room; but then again, he had to stop running away from every obstacle like a coward. He closed his eyes, and finally gathered the courage to open the door. Ms. Grundy was here, standing with her arms crossed in the middle of the classroom, seemingly waiting for him. She smiled, but it wasn't the kind of nice and gentle smile someone like Betty could produce; it had an unhealthy tint to it, something you could find only if you looked for it. Yet, it was the first thing Archie noticed. “You're late” was the first thing she said, before telling Archie to close the door behind him. The rest was kind of a blur. The redhead shut his senses off, he wanted to feel nothing, hear nothing of what that woman said – he wanted her to get over with what she wanted, and then let him go. Every time she took a step towards him, distress rose into his chest, and he clenched his fists while waiting for it to stop. He caught fractions of what she was saying – asking if he had been a good boy, showering him with compliments, threatening him with a fawning voice to tell everything if he did not obey. He felt her hands on him, her lips on his hands, cheeks, lips, and he thought on repeat “Stop doing that. Don't touch me. Get your hands off.” But he couldn't speak up, and so he stayed silent, and when she was finished, she sent him off while reminding him to keep his mouth shut.

What Archie and her didn't know was that a particularly gloomy student with his signature beanie had been passing through the corridor, and what they didn't know was that he saw everything, and that he was determined to _do something about it._ Knowing what Archie was going through while he pitied himself all day made him think. He didn't know what to do to help the redhead, to get him away from that dangerous, toxic woman; but the days and weeks passed, and Archie’s state was slowly deteriorating, and Jughead knew he had to stop looking at his own little person.

 

On a cold day in the middle of November, he decided he had to speak to Archie, even though it could possibly wake some dark memories. He scribbled something on a post-it note, then, when he had time, he went to Archie’s locker. The code was the same as it had always been, which was convenient for Jughead, who left the note on top of the messy stack of books, before leaving as fast as he had come. The reason why he hadn't simply texted Archie - like any normal teen would - was because he didn’t know if the redhead still had his number. And to be honest, he wasn't keen on receiving a “Who is it?” text from his ex-best friend; it wouldn't be so good for his self esteem. So he just waited, hoping that Archie would see the note. Said redhead got out of class a little later in the afternoon, and opened his locker to find a little piece of yellow paper. Inside of him, he instantly knew from who it was; post-it notes were their way of communicating when they were little. His heart tightened, in a mix of anxiety, joy and something else he couldn’t describe. He slowly picked up the paper, waiting to find a ‘stop looking at me, you creep!’; but there was just a time and a place, and a familiar little signature at the end. ‘8pm, at Pop’s. Jug.’ Archie wondered what this was about… but a bad intuition told him that it probably wasn’t something good. Nonetheless, this note was everything he could think about when he went home, ate, and impatiently looked at the clock until it turned to 7:45pm. He told his dad he would be back later, and then he went out, his stomach twisted with nervousness.

The dinner wasn't crowded, but still pretty busy at this time; even then, Archie had no trouble finding Jughead. He sat at his usual spot, looking out the window, resting his head on his hand. The neon lights reflected on his smooth skin, pink, then blue, and Archie felt a tug in his chest, right in his heart. Jughead was beautiful. He had never really noticed it; but now, in his element, right where he belonged, Jughead was _beautiful;_ and it took Archie’s breath away. He hesitantly walked towards the booth, and Jughead ended up noticing him, lazily turning his head towards him. His eyes followed Archie as he sat across the table, in front of him. They didn't say anything for a while; they just looked at each other silently, waiting for someone to speak first. Jughead did.

 

“I called you here because I have something to tell you,” he started in a low voice. He made it look like it was because he didn't want anyone to hear, but it was just so Archie couldn't hear his voice tremble in nervousness. The redhead nodded, and Jughead continued. “I know about Ms. Grundy - I know what she’s doing to you.”

 

At the mention of the name, Archie shifted uncomfortably. He immediately looked away, so Jughead couldn't read the panic in his eyes. He didn't want the other teen to get involved into this: there was too much to lose, and not enough to win. It was a terrible idea to try to solve the situation - because anything would worsen it. If he put his nose into this, Jughead would get blackmailed, just like he was. And then all hope would be lost. “Jug…,” the nickname came uncontrollably, as he started in an hesitant voice, not finding the words to express himself. “I… we can’t talk about this… it’ll only make things worse, you know? If she finds out…”

Jughead cut him before he could finish his sentence. “No, I don't know, Arch. What she’s doing - it isn't right. It’s _abuse_ .” Archie flinched at the word, his eyes now openly showing fear, but Jughead kept talking. “You can't go on like this, you _have_ to speak to someone. Maybe not the police, but- but at least the principal. He would be able to get you out of here.”

Archie listened to him, but all those solutions were impossible. What Jughead didn't know, or didn't understand, was that this situation was inescapable. But he couldn't tell him why; he didn't want him to panic, or to overreact - or to lose him again. So he just shook his head, defeated, and repeated: “I can't do that.” Jughead argued with him, tried to reason him, but it was no use. Soon the redhead’s attitude started exasperating him; and then it angered him. After a while, he had enough of talking to a wall, of talking to himself, and he stood up suddenly. “Fine,” he said, quickly putting his laptop in his bag, and swinging it on his shoulder. “Since you obviously don’t need my help, I’ll let you figure this out alone. Or maybe not figure it out at all, like the coward that you are.” With that, he paced away, under Archie’s wide eyes. The redhead knew better than to just stay there, and he stood up in turn, following Jughead out. The dark-haired teen was already a few meters away, and Archie caught up to him, desperately grabbing his arm to stop him. Jughead still had his back to him, and Archie knew he had to speak.

“Jug, please listen, it’s not that I don't need or appreciate your help, it’s just - I can’t tell anyone what she’s doing because -” Archie fumbled to find how to say this, something so touchy. “Because she _knows_ ,” he finally managed to blurt out, his voice quivering. Jughead didn't turn immediately; but eventually he did. His eyes glistened with something that looked like fear, and it broke Archie’s heart. “What?”, he muttered, furrowing his eyebrows. Archie took a deep breath, and looked right into his eyes.

“She… she knows, Jug. She was here, on the fourth. She told me she saw everything, and that I had to do what she said, because if not…” Archie shivered, and shook his head. “She said she’d tell the police everything she knew.” There, he had said it. And now the silence was back. Jughead looked hopeless now, and it hurt Archie to see him like that. He tried talking it out, but he was never good at talking. “I didn't want to tell you, because I didn't want you to be involved, and… and I didn't want to wake those memories by talking to you either. And I know we’re probably in the worst possible place in our lives right now, and we might think that there’s no hope, but maybe - maybe we can try to go through it together, instead of hating each other and ourselves.” It sounded cheesy, but it was true, after all - that was what he felt, deep inside. He hoped Jughead felt it too, or at least understood. A few moments that felt like an eternity passed, and then Jughead seemed to relax a little. “You don't know how long I’ve waited to hear that.” With those words, he pulled Archie into a hug, and the redhead instantly wrapped his arms around him, and they just stood here, forgetting their surroundings. Until Archie felt a drop of water fall on him, and before he could process anything, it started raining. In a few short minutes, the rain was already pouring down and the two teens reluctantly parted, Archie genuinely laughing for the first time in months. Jughead couldn't help but smile, and for a moment, it felt like they were back to being little kids, when they had nothing to worry about. Soon they decided to go find shelter somewhere, because the rain was not going to stop, and since it was the closest, they quickly walked to Jughead’s house. They made it inside soaking wet, but they didn't really care.

 

By the time they’d hung their drenched jacket in the hallway, and gone upstairs to Jughead’s room, they realised how awkward the situation was. The exaltation brought by the rain was gone, and now they were back to silence, and wondering what they were supposed to do. Archie looked around the room: it was as it had always been - surprisingly tidy, with tons of articles and pictures pinned on the wall, taking up all the space; a desk; and a bed. It was all Jughead needed. Archie sat on the bed - he was used to making himself at home - while Jughead stayed standing, leaning back on his desk, watching the redhead. They knew they had so much to talk about, but now wasn’t the right time. For now, they were together: it was the only thing that mattered to them. Sometimes, they said a few words, made small talk about something that hadn't changed, something that had; and gradually, the tension and awkwardness faded. Soon enough, it was just like it had always been -  comfortable, reassuring, just like home. Jughead came to sit next to Archie, and the conversation came easily, about everything and anything. It eventually turned to the avoided topic: _them_. Suddenly talking became harder; Archie looked around to find a distraction. On the bed lied a copy of Beckett’s “Waiting for Godot”, and the redhead picked it up, opening it at a random page. When they were little, he remembered, they used to read theatre together, and act it out. So, spontaneously, he read the first line that came to his eyes.

 

“- Did I ever leave you?”, he read out loud.

“- You let me go.” Jughead answered quietly.

 

Archie looked up from the book, and the look of sadness and hurt in Jughead’s eyes broke his heart. The dark-haired teen’s lip quivered, and Archie even thought he saw a tear roll down his cheek. Archie knew Jughead never cried - he only did when something _really_ affected him. Silently, Archie brought a hand up to softly cup his cheek, and his friend looked at him with gleaming eyes; and then they kissed, and it felt like the first kiss they had ever shared - it felt like destiny.

That night, contrary to what they both thought, was not plagued by nightmares; in fact, it was their first night of sleep in months. But they both knew, ultimately, that the peacefulness would not last; so they held onto it dearly while they had the chance. In this hell of a life, things could turn bad very, very quickly.


	4. we are all born mad. some remain so.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets are not easy to keep. Impossible to keep, in fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is a quote from Samuel Beckett. 
> 
> I hope you won't be disappointed by this chapter, and that you will stay tuned for the next and last one! I'm really, really enjoying writing this fic, and I hope you like reading it. 
> 
> If you did, don't forget to tell me in the comments - and if you have some criticism, go ahead as well! Oh, and go check my tumblr @adeleisuncool if you'd like :)

For a month or so, life was tolerable. School continued its endless routine; wake up, go to class, go home, sleep, repeat. The shock of Jason's death had left way for indifference, as the police found nothing new and the investigation got nowhere. Even then, the town was not as it had ever been - a mist of mystery hovered over it, under the form of a little bit of fear at the back of the minds, or a new way of looking at your neighbor when he spent too much time in his garage. The agitation of the beginning had passed, but sometimes a thought came in mind - a furtive “What if _he_ had killed him?” or “What if it happened to me?”. In the middle of this gloomy atmosphere, Jughead and Archie tried to live like normal people, desperately entangled in their net of secrets and lies. It was hard, that was no doubt - but together, they managed to bear it. When they passed by each other in the corridor, they no longer shot each other a dirty look, but merely nodded in acknowledgment. Seeing each other outside school was enough for them; they spent one or two nights a week at each other’s place, sometimes spending a day together during the weekend. This was immensely positive for both: Archie regained little by little his ability to genuinely laugh, and even started playing a bit of guitar again, while Jughead started taking pleasure in writing, something he had lost after the “incident”. Their times together were their most precious, cherished moments, and they always waited for them impatiently. Sometimes they were best friends, sometimes they were boyfriends, but they didn’t need to talk it out to understand it; and ultimately, they were both, and it made them happy. Sometimes they talked for hours, about music, politics, food, anything. Sometimes they downloaded a movie on Jughead's laptop and stayed cuddled up together on the bed, in the dark and in silence, focusing on the screen. Sometimes they played cheesy songs from musicals and reminded themselves of when they used to re-enact the most iconic scenes, when they were little and home alone. They hadn't quite reached the level of happiness and carefreeness they used to have in the past, but they seemed to come back to appreciating life little by little. Their lost hours of sleep were gradually found again, the colours came back on their face, and it just felt right.

Whether it was deliberate or unconscious, there were just two things they never spoke about: the night on the 4th of July, and Ms. Grundy. They never brought up the incident on purpose; sometimes, something reminded them of it, and dark memories re-emerged, bringing with them a characteristic silence. It could be something like reading an article about a progress in the investigation, but also something as simple as Archie absent-mindedly tracing the slowly-fading mark on Jughead's jaw. Every time he did that, Jughead instantly withdrew from him, a frown on his pale face, and stopped talking for a while. And every time, Archie hated himself for having left his hand wander a bit too much. Ms. Grundy was also a topic they avoided - well, Jughead tried to bring it up, but every time the subject was touched upon, Archie became completely closed off and refused to speak. Jughead knew his best friend was doing this to protect them both; but the dark-haired teen hated seeing Archie hurt so much. Jughead regularly sat at his booth in the dark corner at Pop’s, and saw Archie join Betty and Veronica on the other side of the dinner, a look of fear and disgust behind the redhead's fake smile. When this happened, it was the sign something had been going on. By now, the dark-haired teen was so desperate to help Archie that he was ready to tell the principal himself; but of course, that would not have only good consequences for the redhead. So Jughead resigned to just trying to make Archie see the seriousness of the issue - which failed most of the time. He _had_ to find a way to reason Archie.

 

The occasion presented itself on a cold evening in December. Jughead was at home, working on a Sociology assignment, when he thought he heard the doorbell ring. He furrowed his brows and turned down the volume of the radio, from where a soft classical music came. Seconds later, the bell rang again, longer this time - and Jughead instantly got the feeling something was wrong. He hurried downstairs to the hallway, and opened the door. Archie stood on the porch, panting, holding his head in his hands, and a look of utter distress on his face. Jughead did not wait a second to make him enter and try to calm him down. He did not exactly remember how he did it - it was mostly a lot of cupping Archie’s cheeks, a lot of looking at him in the eyes, and a lot of whispering comforting words – but he managed to do it. At some point, the redhead somewhat relaxed, and Jughead led him to his room, where Archie sat down at the foot of the bed, trembling. Before Jughead could try to ask anything, though, Archie suddenly burst into tears, buried his face in his hands, and Jughead knew this was more serious than he had thought. He wrapped his arms around Archie, in a protective and comforting gesture, a hand slowly moving up and down the redhead's back, while the other cradled the back of Archie's head. Jughead was surprisingly good at consoling the redhead, whispering in his ear: “Shh, it’s okay. I’m right here. I’m not going to let you go. Don't worry, I’m here for you.” It took many more minutes for Archie's whimpers to diminish in volume, and his sobs gradually became fewer, although his body was still shaking violently. With his face still pressed against Jughead's neck, he started speaking.

The redhead spoke slowly, interrupted by sobs, having to catch his breath in between sentences. The more he spoke, the more appalled Jughead became. He couldn't possibly believe something like this could happen, that she would go this far, that she would force him to… Jughead closed his eyes in disgust, and tightened his arms around Archie, as to shield his best friend from the control of this despicable and toxic woman. A mix of feelings started boiling inside of him: rage, despair, and most of all, hate. He remained silent, supporting Archie through affectionate gestures, not daring to interrupt the redhead's torrent of words. Eventually, Archie came to the end of the story; and Jughead noticed that speaking seemed to have lifted a weight from his shoulders. That night, Jughead stayed awake thinking, continuously holding Archie in his arms. He didn't know what the consequences would be, but inside, he was certain of one thing - he _would_ get Ms. Grundy in jail, one way or another.

The next morning, Archie woke Jughead up with a nudge of his shoulder, and the dark-haired teen’s sleepy eyes were surprised to see his friend so determined. He nodded, motioning his friend to speak, while Archie looked at him with serious eyes. Jughead suddenly hoped Archie wasn't mad at him for not having done enough last night to comfort him – true, Jughead had physically been here for him, but he hadn't tried to speak about the issue afterwards. But Archie said something way different. “You’re right, Jug. You’re always right. I’m so sorry about all the bad things this could lead to - but I… I’m going to tell the principal. I can’t go on like this.”

A wave of relief crashed inside of Jughead, and made him speechless. Actions said more than words, Jughead knew it. So instead of saying something stupid, he looked up at Archie, genuinely smiled, and closed the distance between their lips, wrapping his arms around the redhead’s neck. Maybe it was the beginning of the end; but it was a beginning nonetheless. And for the first time, they both caught a glimpse of hope, and realised that maybe everything wouldn’t be that bad.

 

On Monday morning, Jughead went with Archie to the principal’s office. The redhead was more than nervous - his eyes were elusive, his hands trembled, and he asked Jughead if they could go back a good amount of times. His friend always shook his head, answering they had to do this, that it was now or never, that they couldn't go back now. Jughead thought he would at least be allowed to stay by Archie's side - but the principal dismissed him, and he had to sit on the chair outside, straining his ears to catch a fraction of the conversation - in vain. He resigned to just waiting, and stressing out. What if the principal refused to believe him? What if this was just a huge mistake, a terrible idea? Now Jughead was in doubt. He shouldn't have forced Archie to do this, right? Now that he thought of it, he was no better than Ms. Grundy, pushing Archie to do things he didn't want… As Jughead sat in apprehension and anticipation, he heard footsteps and looked up from staring at the floor. As a reflex, he clenched his fists when he saw who was walking towards him. Ms. Grundy looked right into his eyes, and Jughead defiantly returned the stare, before he saw the glint in the woman's pupil. She _knew_ what Archie and him were doing, and he knew that she knew. She nodded at him, as if greeting an old rival, a lopsided smile on her proud face. And then she looked away, right in front of her, and she walked on without hurrying. Jughead knew exactly that she was going straight for the police station. It was the end. In less than two hours, it would be over. And it would be his fault, entirely. 

Archie walked out of the principal’s office looking relieved, and he expected Jughead to feel like this too, or to be proud of him for finally gathering the courage to tell everything. But he found the dark-haired teen pacing in front of the room, panic written on his face in big letters. Archie understood instantly. The two teens looked at each other, surprisingly calm. There was so much to say, but nothing was strong enough. So they said nothing.

 

***

 

“Tell me. Where were you both on the night of the fourth of July?”

The sheriff sat across Archie and Jughead at the desk, inside the stuffy interrogation room. His eyes traveled from one teen to another, intensely scanning their soul, ready to discern any lie. The atmosphere was heavy and suffocating; behind both boys, a policeman stood tall, hands behind his back, ready to act if they tried anything suspicious; and a camera recorded everything, broadcasting the scene to another room. They were trapped, tied, observed - conscious about the shame their parents would have, when the little video showed them what their beloved kids had done. They knew how they would be seen from now on: criminals. They knew that their happy life was coming to an end.

Jughead was looking down at his hands, nervously agitating his leg; Archie was looking down at the cup of water in front of him, biting his lip so hard it was going to bleed. They did not dare to look at each other, and did not dare to start talking, afraid to say something that would endanger the other. The sheriff snapped his fingers, obviously annoyed by their shifty attitudes, and repeated his question. A few minutes later, Jughead gulped, and he decided to say something. He turned his head towards Archie, who nodded to motion him to go on, though the sadness in his eyes showed he was not so ready for it. Jughead looked at the sheriff, and took a deep breath.

 

“We lent a boat at Sweetwater River,” the dark-haired teen started in an hesitant voice. The sheriff said nothing, looking at him intently, waiting for him to go on. “It was around 9:30pm, I think. We wanted to see the fireworks, so we stopped in the middle of the river. There was no one else, anyway.” Jughead looked down, his heartbeat quickening. This was the easy part, the part everyone already knew. But he didn’t want to explain the hard part. He didn't want to bring the subject up again, to remember the details, to have to re-live this night over and over again. But the sheriff was unimpressed by the answer, and he didn't conceal it. He leaned further on the table, looking at Jughead intently. “So there was no one else on the river? You didn't see anyone or anything in particular?” Jughead nodded, without really thinking; but the sheriff didn’t buy it. “One of our sources informed us that you _did_ see someone that night - and that this ‘someone’ was Jason Blossom. Do you confirm or deny this fact?”

Jughead was paralysed, his hands tight around the fabric of his jeans, his mind filling up with memories he had spent months trying to push away. They washed over him like a tidal wave, and he found himself incapable to say anything, all his attention turned towards trying to suppress the flow. The events played back in his mind like a damaged tape – some fragments of memory came back to him clearly, while others were just a blur that he couldn't grasp. He thought about something, then was suddenly unsure if it was true or completely made-up. What he thought he knew turned to doubt; while what he thought he ignored imposed itself as true. He found he was unable to remember all the details; but he did have the general sequence of events in mind.

 

_They were on the boat, just chilling, laying around while watching the stars and waiting for the fireworks show to start. It was a damp and hot summer night, with a dark cloudless sky; the river was still, gleaming under the silver moonlight, but also deep and dangerous. The place was eerily silent, except for the quiet songs of the nocturnal birds, the soothing buzz of the August crickets, and the soft laughs of two teenage boys. They thought they were alone, but another boat silently glided towards theirs on the river; whether they didn't hear it or deliberately ignored it, it was unclear. Either way, they didn't pay attention to it, too absorbed in the stars, and in each other, to want to turn away. But as they heard a voice call out to them, they knew their moment of peacefulness was over._

 

Archie noticed his friend was deep in thoughts, too caught up into sorting out his own mind to speak, and he decided that he had to stop being such a coward, and follow Jughead’s example. The redhead answered the sheriff's question in his place. 

“Yes, we saw him - we were in our boat, and he was in another, alone…” The tremor in Archie's voice was almost inaudible; but it was there, nonetheless. “We didn't really notice him at first, but then he started freaking out about…” The redhead paused, stealing an inquisitive glance at Jughead. The raven-haired teen looked back at Archie with confused eyes; he couldn't believe his friend would want to admit, in front of a sheriff and his father, why they were together on the fourth of July…  but the redhead did finish his sentence. “... about something.”

As expected, just saying this wasn't enough for the sheriff, who squinted inquisitively at the redhead. Archie saw he wasn’t anywhere near giving up on the interrogation; in fact, he had many more mysteries to shed light on. “What’s that something you’re speaking about, Archie? Please tell me, it’s important.” The sheriff looked right into Archie's eyes, warning him with his gaze that if he wanted to lie, he would pay the price of the consequences. Archie looked at Jughead again, not sure if he could say it, not sure if his friend was okay with it - but the dark-haired teen was looking down at his hands, and it wasn't of any help. So Archie kept his mouth shut, and the silence stretched on for what felt like ages; and all the while, the redhead hoped naively that the sheriff would drop the subject, that he would recognise their innocence and just release them. He had no such luck.

 

“Do you think I’m kidding, Archie? Tell me _right now_ , what is that _something_?!”

The sheriff had run short of patience in front of Archie's passive behavior, and he strongly thumped the table, his angry eyes boring into Archie's soul, scrutinizing his every move. The redhead was startled; the anger made something in him click, and uncontrollably, the words cascaded out of his mouth, getting all mixed up, interrupting one another. “H-he was shouting insults - I think, uh, homophobic slurs, because - because Jug and I, we - we were kissing, or whatever, and he got all angry and climbed on our boat, and he started… he started…” As Archie spoke, memories came back to him, and his voice just followed the stream of his thoughts, unstoppable.

 

_Jason started pushing Archie around, saying incoherent sentences, gesturing around like a madman. His eyes were red and bloodshot, ruining the usual perfection of his porcelain face, as if he was under some sort of drug; and his body shook with violent spasms, too violent to come from anger alone. After unsuccessfully trying to pacify Jason, Archie had resigned to standing up and retain him physically: he grabbed Jason’s shoulders, trying to maintain him, to calm him down, to understand what was up with him - and all the while, the boat swayed dangerously from side to side. Archie was starting to get tired from attempting to keep Jason calm, and trying to keep his balance at the same time; so Jughead joined him and tried to hold Jason back, gripping his arm as strongly as he could with his weak, lanky arms, but failing; still shouting, Jason tried to throw a punch - he missed Archie’s face, but his fist reached Jughead's jaw instead, and his metal ring dug into the skin, leaving a fresh open scar. The pain, the fog, and the confusion made Jughead's head spin - he wanted this to end, he wanted this nightmare to stop; ultimately, he didn't know if it was him or Archie who grabbed the collar of Jason's jacket, and impulsively pushed him into the deep black river._

_The deed was done. Jason cried out, struggled to come back to the surface and catch his breath, and his agony lasted for what felt like an eternity; while Archie and Jughead watched, both paralysed and horrified. Then, as if nothing had happened, everything grew silent. And after some long minutes, Jughead, the one who never cried, the one who never panicked, broke out into tears, his wide eyes staring hopelessly at the water._

_“Oh my god, he’s dead, Archie,” he said desperately. “He’s dead… and… and…”_

 

“And we killed him,” Archie confessed, catching his breath after having talked so much. His whole body shook, and tears rolled down his cheeks, and the only sounds heard in the heavy silence were his sobs and Jughead's. Archie imagined his father’s face, in the room just a wall away, looking at the little screen in horror. He imagined him watching his face, and not recognising his son - only seeing a criminal, a cold-blooded killer, a monster. Only seeing a stranger, someone he knew nothing about. Thinking of this broke his heart. They both thought about the future, or more precisely lack thereof, locked inside a prison cell, hated by everyone and cut away from the outside world, spending days thinking of all the things they could’ve done to avoid this. Ultimately, they were dragged back to the hard reality, and realised there was no hope. They didn't struggle when cold metal cuffs clicked around their wrists; they didn't protest when they were led outside the room, and they didn't fight when they placed in a provisional cell inside the police station. In fact, they had stop fighting against fate long ago.

 

***

 

Later that night, inside his office, Sheriff Keller paced around, his brows furrowed in deep reflexion. One of his colleagues stopped at his door, and was surprised to find him still here, after the success they had had earlier. “Hey, boss, what are you doing still here? You’ve just successfully closed a case,you should have the right to get some rest,” the policeman said with a smile. The sheriff shook his head, still pacing, still thinking. “No,” he answered, “Something is not quite right.”

Confronted to his colleague’s confused expression, the sheriff stopped in the middle of the room, his arms crossed over his chest.

 

“Jason Blossom died,” he started in an overly calm voice. “But here’s the thing: he didn't die drowning.”


	5. love is the one thing that can stop a man from falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I had jumped off the edge, and then, at the very last moment, something reached out and caught me in midair. That something is what I define as love.”   
> ― Paul Auster, Moon Palace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Paul Auster's Moon Palace.
> 
> Here we are! The conclusion of this adventure. I hope you liked it, I hope you like this last chapter, and I hope that I will see you again reading my upcoming fics! Thank you so much to everyone who has commented and left kudos: little things like this give me the motivation to write. And thanks again to @captainofthecity for the inspiration! Without you, this fic wouldn't even exist :')
> 
> If you like what you see, be sure to check out my tumblr @adeleisuncool :) And I'll see you next time!

Against all odds, Sheriff Keller was a smart man. He didn't take him long to put the pieces together, and realise that he had been wrong all along. He had had this feeling inside of him, during the months of investigation - the feeling only experimented police officers got when something didn't fit. The investigation had been led on a wrong path: they had been looking for the killer amongst Jason’s schoolmates, and he must admit he had felt the taste of success with Jughead and Archie’s avowal. But the feeling of victory had quickly faded away when the sheriff had re-read the autopsy report. He couldn't believe he had thought all along that the two teens were guilty, when the proof they weren't lied in front of his eyes, on the first page of the file. “Cause of death: drug overdose.” That was a mistake even the best made: Keller had assumed, as Jason’s body was found in the river, that he had died drowning - and he hadn't bothered to look at the autopsy report. The problem was that each cause of death implied a different scenario. There was a difference between pushing someone off a boat and administering them a mortal dose of heroine. So, either the boys were lying, to lead the police to a wrong path; or they genuinely didn't know about the drug overdose, and someone else was involved. The first option was a possibility, although the sheriff found it very unlikely: he doubted the teens’ nervous breakdown in custody was an act. And even so, why would they say they had killed Jason, while trying to cover up another crime? It was absurd. No, it had to be something else.

Sheriff Keller couldn't quite grasp what, but he’d have to find it rapidly: time was running out, and he couldn't bear to see his old pal Fred Andrews so unhappy any longer. He understood the man, or at least tried to - it couldn't be easy learning in the span of a few minutes that your son is gay and a criminal, and Fred needed some time to take all of that in. Keller too had been a bit shocked to learn what Jughead and Archie had done, and was worried about the boys; the incident sounded exactly like self-defence, so justice wouldn't be hard on them… but their schoolmates would be. He hoped they would be able to handle the stares and whispers, if they decided to go back to school afterwards. But their guilt wasn't proved yet, and it was even quite the opposite - Keller had to find another direction for the investigation. The police had already looked for a culprit in the South Side Serpents, to no avail. It seemed like the clan, although involved into some shady affairs, wasn’t dangerous to the point of killing anyone.

Then there was that woman, the music teacher. She had been the one to bear witness against the two boys, and nothing seemed to prove she had invented anything; her version coincided with Jughead and Archie’s, and Sheriff Keller had no doubt she had been there on the fourth of July; otherwise she wouldn’t have such a precise knowledge of the details of the event. Keller hadn’t thought much of it at first: her declaration that she was on the bank on the river to watch the fireworks was more than believable, so he didn’t bother to dig into it. Any rational person would’ve been alarmed to hear Jason shout, and would’ve hurried to see what was going on – and that was precisely what Ms. Grundy had done. Now that the investigation was at a dead-end, though, some questions arose. The main one being: _Why now?_ If Ms. Grundy was there on the fourth of July, then she should’ve made her statement earlier… yet, it was almost January, and she had decided – without anything announcing it – to come to the police. It was common for witnesses to come forward later during the investigation when they were shocked or traumatised by what they had seen; but in her office, Ms. Grundy hadn’t looked particularly distressed – she was very calm, even. Maybe _too_ calm… She had simply come in, said she knew important things, and told everything from beginning to end. It was like her mind had recorded every single element, which was useful for the police, but also quite suspicious when you looked into it. In real life, memory was selective, and was not entirely reliable, so Ms. Grundy shouldn’t have been able to know exactly what had happened. Unless she had some part to play in Jason Blossom’s murder.

 

Keller stayed up all night working after the boys’ questioning. If they weren’t guilty, he wanted Archie and Jughead to spend as little time as possible in detention: he was worried about the teens spiralling down into hopelessness, but also about their parents taking irrational decisions after having heard the testimony. After all, how to react upon receiving such news? Some people would go as far as disowning or kicking out their kid if something like this happened to them. Keller just hoped Fred and Forsythe, his old high school friends, were sensitive enough to not go to that point with their sons. Jughead and Archie were far from being troubled or violent young men, and what they did was just a hasty decision in a situation of panic – not a well thought-out serial killer plan. They were obviously sorry about their actions, given all the tears they had shed during the interrogation. In short, they did not deserve to be seen as criminals. And to prevent this, Keller knew he had to act fast, and find the truth while it was still possible. He started by looking into the files for Ms. Grundy. She was not mentioned often in the reports and the witnesses’ deposition, and when she was, it didn't have any relevance for the investigation. Until Keller got to Cheryl's deposition. When asked about the people her brother regularly saw, Cheryl had mentioned the teacher, and not in a very usual way. She had told the police that Grundy was giving Jason piano lessons - which was normal, as a music teacher. But Cheryl had said something else, in the spur of the moment. She said she didn't trust the woman, that Jason had been acting weird ever since they had started the lessons, and that Grundy always sent suspicious gazes to her brother. Keller couldn't believe it - he couldn't believe Cheryl had said something that so blatantly pointed towards Grundy, and that the policemen hadn’t asked her to go further. He would have to have a word with his colleagues in charge of the depositions, later. But for now, what was most important was making sure that Grundy wasn't going to go anywhere. He couldn't risk losing such a major witness, and possible suspect. And if the teacher did have something to do with the murder, it wouldn't be long before she fled without leaving a trace.

 

The next morning, Ms. Grundy was called in for interrogation. She arrived into the office wearing a confident smile on her face, and politely shook the sheriff’s hand. Keller couldn’t tell what that attitude meant - whether she didn’t know what the police wanted, and thought this was a routine interrogation; or whether she, on the contrary, thought that her act would save her. It was very unlikely for her, the sheriff thought, to go out of this room proven innocent. The pile of accusations towards her had grown in the course of the previous day – blackmailing, child abuse, and to top it all off, murder. He may not have had any evidence of her guilt, but Keller still had this feeling that this time, it was the right path to follow. And you could bet he wouldn’t stop in the middle of the road. He didn’t immediately tell Grundy why she had been summoned at the police station; he started instead asking her basic questions – where she was on the fourth of July, if she could repeat what she had seen, etc. It could seem redundant and laborious, but Keller didn’t mind, and in fact, he had all the time in the world. If Grundy didn’t want to cooperate, then it was her choice, but he had consumed enough coffee to stay awake for long hours interrogating her. He knew she would break, at some point. Everyone did – some earlier than others, but everyone did, ultimately. As he had anticipated, she was very allusive at first: she gladly repeated the events she had witnessed, almost word for word, and she remained impassive. She was annoyingly pleasant, and Keller knew this wouldn’t be easy – but he was determined to make her speak. After about two hours of having her repeat the same thing over and over again, Keller noticed her attitude changed. It was a slight change, but a close observer could easily see it: an irritated glint in her eye, a finger mechanically tapping her thigh, a frequent change of her position. When she was shifty enough, the sheriff knew he could begin the real questioning. He asked her very plainly what her relationship with Jason was, and Keller saw that the question surprised her. She squinted her eyes, acting clueless, and told the sheriff what he already knew: that she was Jason’s piano teacher. But just the way she had been taken aback by his question showed that there was something more underneath. He just had to dig a little more… and he did. He didn’t even try to hide what he wanted to know: he simply asked her if there was something more between Jason and her.

She just laughed, but there was in her voice a hint of unease, and Keller knew he was right. Everything, from what Archie had told the principal to why she was on the river on the fourth of July, fit in perfectly. Now all he had to do was make her confess, and the case would be closed. Besides, there were still some questions left unanswered, and it was his duty to resolve them. He was not going to give up now. He started his game of questions and answers again, to tire her some more; and like a broken record, she said repeatedly that she was Jason’s music teacher, that she had no part to play in his death, that all she knew was what she had already told. And every time she said this, the sheriff nodded, and brought her attention to another detail, something else she hadn’t mentioned, and at some point, it was too much for her. Her polite smile was gone now – all that was left was a cold and contemptuous expression. She said only the strict minimum, answering the sheriff’s questions by a short “Yes” or “No” or “I don’t know”. Until she took a deep breath and cut the sheriff off herself.

 

“Fine.” She uncomfortably leaned against the back of the chair, her eyes unfocused in front of her. Keller’s face remained imperturbable, but inside of him, he was already rejoicing. That was it. She had finally snapped, and she was about to confess – what a success! The sheriff looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to develop. “Since it looks like you’re not letting me out of here anytime soon, I might as well tell you what you want to hear. I’m just happy I didn’t give in as early as those damn teenagers.” Her mouth twisted in a smirk, and she looked at her nails, silent for a few moments. Then she spoke without hesitating, and didn’t stop until she was done. “I hope you’re listening, because I’m not going to say this twice.

“Jason’s parents contacted me about a year ago. They were desperate to make their son play piano, because apparently he wasn’t upper-class enough for them… anyway. They asked me to teach Jason to play three times a week, and it didn’t bother me – I mean, anybody would’ve accepted if they’d seen the cheque. So on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, I helped Jason to play for about an hour, and that was all.

“I was immensely bored, and I wanted to make these lessons a little bit more fun. Really, Jason was awful at piano, so you could understand that I wanted to entertain myself. Something that wasn’t awful about him, though, was his face. I started dropping some hints, being a little flirtier, and he just went with it. I took it as a sign that I could keep going, and I guess I got a little bit… carried away, but well, I had fun doing it. I think he liked the attention; or maybe there was so little in his head that he was completely oblivious. Every time I made an allusion, he just laughed and acted like it didn’t bother him. Doesn’t sound like I was being abusive, don’t you think?

“Anyway. At some point, I had enough of playing games, and he looked like he did too. One night, I went beyond the hints – I tried something, and instead of giving into my charms, he rejected me like he was the fucking Virgin Mary or something. Seriously, I’ve never seen someone be so shocked by a little kiss in my life. He started getting overly dramatic, telling me he didn’t want this, and that I was all sorts of bad things, etc. I just thought he’d get over it, and it would be forgotten, but the little bitch was vicious. I hoped he wouldn’t tell anyone, but I had no such luck. Weeks after, he went and told all this to his crush, the one and only Jughead Jones. Honestly, what a joke, him liking this useless piece of trash. I was just lucky Jones was the most secretive person in this crazy town; at least he wouldn’t go around telling the story to everyone. I knew Jason would, though. I had to shut him up.

“It was pretty easy finding how I’d do it. The South Side Serpents were naïve enough to think I’d use the drug for my own recreation, and I knew they didn’t keep records of their sales. On the fourth, I drove to the Blossoms’ house, and during the piano lesson – which, thankfully, the parents hadn’t cancelled -, I administered Jason a good dose of heroine. Made it look like he had done it himself – I mean, those kids get wild on holidays. Then I brought him to the river to make him disappear once and for all. Turns out I didn’t have to do it myself, since under the effects of the drug, this stupid teen started freaking out when he saw Andrews and Jones together. The rest of the story, I think we all know by now.”

Keller was beyond shocked by the fluidity of Grundy’s avowal. She really had said everything, with the coldest of cold voices, and a content smile on her face. She hadn’t even freaked out, regretting what she had done; she had admitted without flinching having made sexual advances to a minor, and then having killed him in cold blood. She truly was a despicable woman, it was plain for anyone to see. It had been so easy that now, Keller had no idea what to say. Should he just arrest her, now that her confession was on tape? Should he push further? No, it looked like she had said everything relevant for the investigation. But there was just one more thing Keller wanted to know.

 

“Do you know what Archie told Pr. Weatherbee?” Grundy rolled her eyes, and nodded, crossing her legs in an annoyed and childish gesture. “Is it true?” Keller continued, looking at her intently.

She looked back at him, and a mischievous smile came onto her lips, before she answered the sheriff’s question.

“What can I say? I guess I love redheads, that’s all.”

 

Less than thirty minutes later, she was officially arrested and taken out of the police station, right to the detention centre. And as Keller signed the papers for the court, he congratulated himself for having stopped this odious woman from hurting anyone else. It had taken six months and a lot of U-turns, but now the truth was finally out, and the little town could revert back to its prosperous little self.

 

 

***

 

 

“I swear to god, Archie, if you don’t stop moving…”

 

Jughead was trying to focus on tying the bow around Archie’s collar, but the redhead was too shifty, and the fabric too slippery for it to work. After the umpteenth failed attempt, the raven-haired teen sighed defeatedly, and looked fondly into Archie’s eyes. “Arch, I know you’re nervous, and I am, too. But could you just stand still for a minute? Thank you.” Archie nodded, and stood as immobile as he could, while Jughead finally succeeded in tying the bowtie around the neck of his shirt. His boyfriend looked at the knot he had just made, and his smile was enough to warm Archie’s heart. Jughead put his hands on the redhead’s shoulders and shrugged. “A little crooked, but I’m still proud,” he stated before quickly pecking Archie’s lips.

Ms. Grundy’s arrest had been a relief for both, of course – because it meant they actually weren’t guilty, but also because they wouldn’t be seen as criminals anymore. The police had done its best to not share too much details about the affair, but of course, they couldn’t escape going in court and having to testify in front of the whole town. They would always remember the shocked gasps and whispers when they admitted in front of the judge having pushed Jason in the water. They would also always remember the cold stares the Blossom family had sent them during the trial. But their testimony took place before Ms. Grundy, and what remained etched in the audience’s memory was not the actions of the two boys, but rather the attitude of the real murderer. In court, Grundy was insolent, contemptuous, and just plain rotten. She expressed no regrets for having killed Jason – she even seemed proud of herself, to a certain extent. Archie didn’t want to think about what she would have done if he had happened to refuse her advances. In fact, he didn’t want to think about this whole story again, just like Jughead. They had suffered enough, and now they had the right to be normal again.

Both teens had gone out of court with a two-year suspended sentence for failure to assist a person in danger; it would be there for a long time, in their criminal records, but at least they hadn't been convicted for a crime they didn't commit. And that was already huge for them, and their parents. Archie's dad had needed a while to let it all sink in - his son’s implication in the murder, of course, but also his relationship with Jughead. Ultimately, it didn't take long for Fred to understand that his son was his son - even if he had theoretically killed one of his classmates, and even if he liked kissing boys. Everyone made mistakes, took irrational decisions with terrible consequences; and now, the most important thing was that Archie was happy. Fred didn't want anything to ever take this happiness back.

As for Jughead, his parents had come back from their business trip shortly after the arrest, and the black-haired teen thought it would be the end of him. Surprisingly, it wasn't. His parents just made a beeline towards him and hugged him as tightly as they could, protective and soothing. Jughead wouldn't admit it, but he did cry, that day. He hadn't expected his parents to support him that much, to stay by his side; but they did, and they even cancelled some of their upcoming trips to stay with their son. It meant a lot for Jughead, that they would place their kid over work for once. For the first time in his life, he was grateful towards his parents, and he enjoyed their presence until they’d have to go again.

 

Archie looked at himself in the mirror for the hundredth time that night, running a nervous hand in his hair. He had grown painfully aware of the other persons’ gaze, lately. He was more preoccupied than ever by his image, both physical and mental. At school, after the trial, their schoolmates had been divided: the students wavered between despising them forever or understanding their actions as legitimate defence. Surprisingly, it wasn’t the first option that prevailed; on the contrary, the boys had been astonished at how quickly life had gone back to normal. Archie’s teammates did act a little more awkward when with the redhead, but they did their best to show him their support, and Archie appreciated it. And Jughead, well…  he hadn’t really ever had any friends, so a few more whispers in the corridors didn’t affect him too much. Of course, their true friends remained faithful to them as always: Betty and Veronica had helped them a lot mentally, after the trial, when they were both down. In fact, milkshakes with friends at Pop’s revealed itself to be a very efficient therapy; almost as much as alone time between boyfriends. And after about two months, the teens were back to being (almost) normal teens. 

And now, they were getting ready for the end of year school party. They were both extremely anxious about showing up in public somewhere other than school, and they had to admit they had considered not going at all. But Jughead had decided that they shouldn’t stop themselves from living, just because they had made a stupid mistake. Archie knew it was just to cheer him up – Jughead hated parties – but he still appreciated the gesture. After all, they couldn’t dwell on the past forever: they were young, and they wanted to enjoy their now banal teenage life. When they were ready, they stood for a moment in Archie’s room, intertwined in an affectionate hug, silently thanking each other for being here. And then they were off to the party.

 The place was crowded, and not many people even noticed their arrival, fortunately. Betty and Veronica spotted them quickly and walked towards them, hand in hand, greeting them with excitement. Kevin stayed with them, but his attention was towards his phone, with which he was seemingly actively texting someone, a fond smile on his face. The small group made their way to the dance floor, and Jughead and Archie looked at each other knowingly. It wasn’t as bad as they thought, after all. Until none other than Cheryl Blossom walked towards them, with her loyal companions at her sides; and they suddenly got scared. The redhead stopped right in front of them, her hands on her hips. And then, out of nowhere, she genuinely smiled.

 

“I probably should act like a resentful bitch right now, but I’m not going to. If you hadn’t told anything to the principal, we wouldn’t know the truth about who really killed my brother, and that dirty old bag wouldn’t be in jail. So, thank you. And enjoy the party.”

 With that, she turned on her heels and walked away, leaving Jughead and Archie dumbfounded. The teens stood in shock for a few moments, and then joy rose into their chest. They looked at each other, took each other’s hand. And just with a gaze and a smile, they understood that everything was fine.

 

That night, they didn’t have much sleep – but for the first time in a long time, it wasn’t because of nightmares. It was thanks to joyfulness and bliss.


End file.
